


Skyline

by astronomyparkers



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - Fandom, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, most of this story is just me romanticizing fire escapes tbh, not really sure where im going with this???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-06 16:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11604588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomyparkers/pseuds/astronomyparkers
Summary: Spider-Man thought he saved you one summer night.  Really, it was the other way around.  He just didn't know it yet.





	1. I

Your fire escape had always been your favourite part of your apartment. Situated outside your bedroom window, you had spent countless hours of your life lounging on the metal steps, reading a book or catching up on some homework. Last summer, you had wound a string of fairy lights around the rails, which were coated in shiny dark paint. Your landlady had protested at first but, after you proved that they weren’t endangering the use of the fire escape in any way, she had let you keep them. The small victory had brought a smile to your face, and now your escape was even cozier than before, and was still just as cozy a year later. This year’s summer brought scorching heat and clear nights, and you spent most of your free time out on your escape, trying to catch a breeze.

  
You sat on your fire escape now, wearing a lightweight hoodie and pajama shorts, doodling in a journal. School was out for the week and tomorrow didn’t require a six am wake up call, leaving you free to stay up late and admire the Queens skyline at night. It was nights like these that you loved the most; nights that seemed like they were pulled straight from a movie scene, with stars that glimmered like flames, a full moon bigger than you had ever seen before, and the sounds of the city mixing in with the quiet melodies that drifted out of the speakers propped up on your window sill. You would be content for the rest of your life if you could keep moments like these forever.  
Of course, no sooner had the thought crossed your mind that the scene in front of you changed. To your left, there was a burst of light a few blocks away, and flames began to rise around the building. Sirens quickly began sounding, drawing nearer and nearer as the flames grew. Despite the noise, you could hear shouts in the distance, and you got up from your seat on the stairs to see if you could find out the cause of the light.

  
You leaned over the railing as far as you could safely go, straining to see. For a moment, there was nothing but the fire, until the burst of light occurred again, bigger and brighter than before. You could feel the heat of it ripple across your face, and you stumbled back in shock. Emerging from the source of the fire was a swinging figure, rushing away from the scene. You leaned over the rail again, even farther, squinting through the darkness to make out the identity of the figure. After a moment, with the aid of the moonlight as the figure swung up through your street, you realized that it was the masked hero of Queens, Spider-Man.

  
Although anyone and everyone knew of Spider-Man, you had never seen the crusader in person. Of course, you admired him; there was something to be said for someone who spends their life trying to help others. And he seemed so down to earth—one of your friends at Midtown said that they had spotted him helping an old lady with directions, and another spoke of how he left notes for lost bikes and the like. A boy in your AP literature class claimed that he had been saved by Spider-Man a few months ago, and that he sounded like he was a teenage boy, not actually a man quite yet. His bravery seemed to extend far past his age.

  
At that moment, Spider-Man’s bravery wasn’t the only thing extended too far. While your mind had wandered to what you knew of him, you had leaned further and further over the guard railing. Your train of thought was halted as you lost your balance on the bottom half of the metal bar (when had you climbed up onto it?) and you began to pitch forward. Frantically, you tried to grab onto the railing and pull yourself back up, but no sooner had the thought crossed your mind that you felt yourself pushed back onto the safety of the fire escape.

  
Confused, you looked up to Spider-Man in front of you, his arms still around your shoulders from where he had quickly grabbed you.

  
“Are you okay?” He asked, concern apparent in his tone (his voice was high but definitely male; it appeared the boy from your AP literature class had told the truth).

You nodded your head, swallowing hard. You were still a little shaky from the adrenaline of the scare. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Are, um, are you okay?”

  
“I—yeah, um, I’m okay,” Spider-Man answered confusedly, dropping his arms. “Why do you ask?”

  
“Well, you kind of just, like…blew up a restaurant.” You bit your lip. “At least, I think it was a restaurant? It was in the general vicinity of Vizzini’s.”

  
“I didn’t blow up Vizzini’s; the three guys who are currently webbed to a lamppost across the street blew up Vizzini’s.” Spider-Man defended himself, crossing his arms.

  
“Either way, it doesn’t make my favourite Italian restaurant any less blown up, does it?” You tilted your head. “Sorry. That was rude. I’m usually less rude? I think it’s the shock of almost falling off a seventeen story high fire escape. Thank you, by the way. I should’ve said that before. That was also kind of rude.”  
Spider-Man laughed. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I swung by in time.”

  
You smiled gratefully. “Thank you, really. I owe you. Even if you did blow up my favourite Italian place.”

  
“Well, thank you for asking if I’m okay,” Spider-Man replied. “No one ever does. And if you need a new favourite restaurant, there’s a great Thai place over on 68th. Amazing larb.”

  
“I’ll check it out.” You nodded.

  
Silence fell between you two. What did you say now? The shock was wearing off, and you realized that you enjoyed talking to Spider-Man. However, you were also aware that it was Spider-Man. What else were you supposed to say?

  
“I like your drawing,” The masked hero said after a moment, pointing to your notebook full of doodles that still sat on the stairs. It was flipped open to a sketch you had done of some flowers in a park, to practice some shading.

  
“Oh, uh, thanks,” You walked over to the notebook and picked it up. “It’s just a little hobby, nothing big.”

  
“Hey, hobbies are great! They don’t need to be big.” Spider-Man replied. “Were you drawing tonight?”

  
You shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. I like to spend time out here, especially at night.”

  
“Can I see?” Spider-Man reached a hand out for the notebook.

  
You shrugged again, passing the book to him. You weren’t really one for showing your doodles to people, but then again, this guy just saved your life. You weren’t really in a position to complain.

  
Spider-Man accepted the book and flipped through, stopping at the drawing you did tonight. It was of the Queens skyline with all the stars shining above.

“This is my favourite,” He said. Although you couldn’t see his mouth, you could almost hear the smile. “It’s a good night for drawing, huh?”

He passed the notebook back to you, and you tore the page out. “Here. Keep it. As a thank you.”

  
Spider-Man shook his head. “No, thank you, but I can’t. It’s yours.”

  
“No, seriously, it’s just going to stay in the book forever,” You gave a small smile. “It’s really not a big deal. I want you to have it. And look, there’s Vizzini’s there; it’s like a memoriam for the best Italian place ever.”

  
Spider-Man folded the drawing and tucked it into one of his black bracelets. You realized, looking closer, that they were his web shooters.

  
“Thank you, uh…” Spider-Man trailed off. “I didn’t catch your name?”

  
“Y/N.” You smiled again. “And you’re welcome.”

  
Spider-Man glanced over his shoulder, towards the burning building. You had almost forgotten about the fire. “I have to go,” He took a few steps back, towards the rail. “But be careful next time, okay?”

  
“I will, but you better be careful too, Spider-Man.” You gave him a long look, stressing each word.

  
The hero nodded, and with a wave, he was off, swinging from web to web.

 

By Monday morning, your friends knew of your meeting with Spider-Man, and by lunch, it seemed like the entire school was flocking towards you to hear the story. Once the day was almost over, you felt like you had repeated the tale thousands of times, yet people still clamoured for all the details you could give. A small group had gathered around your locker, looking at you eagerly.

  
“He took the drawing with him?” A girl from your calculus class said in awe. “That’s so cool!”

  
“Yeah, you’re so lucky, Y/N,” Another classmate said, shaking their head.

  
“I mean, I did almost fall from a hundred feet,” You reminded them. “And accused him of destroying my favourite restaurant. He probably took the drawing so he could show it to the Avengers and tell them about the weird girl who jumps over fire escape railings.”

  
“I think you’re wrong,” A voice from next to you piped up. “I think he appreciated you asking how he was doing.”

  
You glanced beside you to see Peter Parker, a kid who sat behind you in physics. You weren’t particularly close to Peter, but you had talked a few times, and your lockers were located in the same row.

  
“You think so, Peter?” You raised an eyebrow.

  
“Yeah, well…no one ever asks the hero if they’re okay,” Peter shrugged, opening his locker and placing a few books inside. “They just kind of assume they are. Everyone likes being treated like they matter.”

  
“You make a good point.” You smiled. “Thanks, Peter.”

  
“No problem.” Peter gave you a shy smile.

  
Just then, the bell rang, signalling it was time to get to final period. The group around your locker began to disperse, but not without one final question.  
“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?” Someone asked curiously.

  
“Nah,” You grinned wryly and shook your head. “I can’t imagine that a random citizen who hangs out on fire escapes and doodles is of much interest to a superhero.”  
With that final comment, everyone parted ways to their final class. Only Peter stayed behind, saying he would see you in physics.

  
Peter grabbed out the books he needed for his final class, and looked at the drawing he had taped up in the back of his locker. The Queens skyline seemed to shine, even in plain graphite pencil.

  
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Y/N.” Peter grinned to himself and shut his locker. “You’re a lot more interesting than you think.”


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, full disclosure....i kinda forgot i had this account???? i upload all my fic to tumblr lmao and i just remembered i had this here so!!! i'll be posting my stories on here as a bit of a backup but you can also find me on tumblr @ astronomyparkers!

It had taken a few weeks, but life after your meeting with Spider-Man had finally returned to normal.  The groups of people hanging around your locker had broken up, the teachers stopped questioning you in front of class, and only three people asked if you had Spider-Man’s number when they wrote in your yearbook.  Despite the attention you had received, however, your school year had come to an uneventful close.  And although you were grateful the interrogations had stopped, you were less than overjoyed about the dullness your days had once again become coloured with.

Your time was filled with events in which variety was far and few.  You woke up at the same time, ate the same breakfast, took care of the same two year old next door, visited your same friends, and tried not to notice the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.  It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the time with your friends, or your favourite toddler; it was just that you felt…different.  Different in a way that you couldn’t explain, or even put into words.  Just different.

Even your nights on the fire escape, which you had so loved, had been tinged with a feeling of monotony.  You still sat on the metal steps, and doodled in your notebook, and listened to music quietly, but you couldn’t help but wish that there would be an explosion a few blocks down, like there had been almost two months ago.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true.  You were already down one favourite restaurant, and you didn’t need to lose another (the Thai place on 68th, however, was amazing, just like Spider-Man had said, and you and your mom had begun frequenting it).  You especially didn’t want anyone to get hurt, or for Spider-Man to get hurt.  But you just wanted a reason to see him again; you felt like there was more you could have told him last time, more that you wanted to talk about.  You had so many questions!  Like how he balanced school and superpowers (you assumed he was around your age, based on his voice and demeanor), or if he was ever scared, doing what he did.  Was there anyone looking out for him?  Did he have someone to check up on him and make sure he was okay, not too banged up after a battle?  Did anyone toss and turn at night, waiting for him to come home?  Did anyone even know who he was?

That last thought made you stop cold.  Your hand froze, pen still poised on paper where you had been drawing your neighbor’s cat that had been running around.  Did Spider-Man have anyone who knew the burden he bore?  Or did he bare it in silence, never letting anyone seeing him falter?  You thought back to what Peter Parker had said in the hallway over a month ago. _“No one ever asks the hero if they’re okay.  They just kind of assume they are.  Everyone likes being treated like they matter.”_   Even Spider-Man himself had told you how no one had ever checked if he was fine.  He was so shocked when you asked the question.  And, if you were being honest with yourself, you had only really asked it because you were in a bit of a shock.  It wasn’t like you were trying to look out for him or be different than other people.  You weren’t really different from other people.  Right now, the only person you were different from was you from two months ago.  In every other way, you were like every other citizen.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts and focus on your sketch.  The more your mind wandered, the more Reginald the cat looked like Winnie the Pooh.  You reached over and turned the music up on your speakers, and made the decision to push Spider-Man from your mind.  You met him, you talked, it was fun, and you were most likely never going to see him again.  It was time to move on.

 

“I like your music.”                                                                                                                            

You screamed and jumped off your perch on one of the metal steps, sliding on your butt to the ground three steps down.  Looking around frantically, you tried to find who had spoken, but there was no one around you.

“Up here.” The voice said again.

You glanced up, and dangling above you, upside down, was Spider-Man.

He gave a small wave with this free hand and your eyes widened in disbelief.  You weren’t quite sure what to say.

“Y/N?” You heard your mother call from inside. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” You called back, not taking your eyes off the masked hero. “Yeah, there was, um…a spider.  It scared me.”

“Okay, well, keep it down,” Your mother called back. “It’s late.”

“Sure thing.” You answered, quietly moving your speakers from the window sill and sliding your window shut.  You didn’t want your mother to hear who you were talking to. “Um, hi.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Spider-Man finally flipped right side up and straightened up in front of you. “Are you okay?”

“I thought that was my line,” You gave a small grin. “Yeah, I’m fine.  My dignity is a little bruised, but I never had much to begin with?  So it’s whatever.”

“Funny,” Spider-Man chuckled. “You’re funny.  Drawing again?”

“Uh huh.” You paused for a moment. “No offense, because I’m glad I’m seeing you again, but what are you doing here?  I didn’t know you did house calls.”

“I don’t.” Spider-Man rubbed the back of his head. “But I was in the neighborhood and I heard your music and thought I would stop by to say hi.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“So…hi.” Spider-Man waved again, making you laugh.

“Hi.” You repeated.

“How’ve you been?” Spider-Man leaned against the metal stairway in what you guessed was an attempt to act casual. “Been —been doing okay?”

“Uh, well, I’ve been thinking of you, actually,” You confessed, leaning back against the brick wall of your apartment building (if Spider-Man was going to lean to attempt to look casual, you were going to lean to attempt to look casual).

“Y-yeah?” Spider-Man’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been thinking of you, too.”

“Really?” You wrapped your arms around yourself as a breeze blew through the air.

“Well, of the drawing you gave me,” Spider-Man added on quickly. “I have it on my wall, so I-I look at it a lot.”

“Oh,” You smiled, albeit confused.  He seemed so nervous, but you had no idea why.  He was the hero of Queens; if anyone was supposed to be nervous, it was you. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do, I do.” Spider-Man moved away from the stairway, walking backwards towards the edge of your fire escape. “Well, I should—just thought I would stop in to tell you.”

“I thought you stopped by to say hi?” You furrowed your brow, biting your lip as you did so.

“I did!  That too, I guess.  It’s been—” Spider-Man stumbled over one of the flower pots you had in a little cluster at the edge of the fire escape. “Shit!  Sorry, um, it’s been good—great!  Great seeing you again, but, uh, I have to go.  People to be, places to save—I mean—shit—”

“No, no, it’s totally okay,” You nodded and walked closer to him. “I understand; you have to go be Spider-Man, so…go be Spider-Man.  Just…”

“Just what?” Spider-Man’s head tilted to the side, curiosity evident in his voice.

“I’m really trying not to sound creepy, but just…let me know you’re okay?  Or let someone know you’re okay.” You pushed some hair out of your face. “You can’t be Spider-Man all the time, right?  You save all those people, and take care of the city, and that’s great, but make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too.” Spider-Man didn’t say anything.  “Please.” You tacked on, trying to sound more polite.

“I—yeah,” Spider-Man nodded. “Yes, Y/N, I promise I’ll take care of myself.  I’ll let you—someone know that I’m okay after a rough day.”

“Okay.” You smiled and sighed in relief.

“Okay.” Spider-Man waved and shot a web to a nearby lamppost, swinging off into the distance.

 

You really thought that would be the last time you would see him.  Honestly, you did, and you were fine with it.  You were still different, but okay.  Okay was better than you were before.  Okay was better than bored with everything.  Okay was…okay.

Except okay didn’t last long for you.  A week and a half later, there was another explosion.  Louder than the one months prior, but farther away.  You quickly climbed out your window and onto your fire escape to try and find out what had happened, but all you could see was a puff of smoke in the distance.  Around you, you heard the screams of civilians on the street, followed by multiple sirens coming from all directions.

You pressed your hand to your chest as your pulse sped up rapidly in a mix of fear, shock, and worry.  What had happened?  What could have caused this?  Would everyone make it out alright?

“Y/N,” Your mother poked her head out through the window. “Come inside.”

“But, Mom—”

“The news said that everyone should remain inside their homes,” Your mom reached out a hand. “Come on, honey.”

With one final glance towards the smoky horizon, you accepted your mother’s hand and climbed back through the window, shutting it behind you.

 

The two of you watched the news all night, trying to understand what was happening.  The news only aired bits and pieces at a time; at first you thought it was because they didn’t want to make anyone panic, but later you realized that they didn’t really know what had happened either. 

From what you could tell, there had been some sort of explosion on the Queensboro Bridge, caused by a pursuit between a few weapons dealers and Spider-Man.  It was thought that the dealers were the leftover workers that had been under the employment of the Vulture, who Spider-Man had caught months prior.  The newscasters claimed that the dealers tried to lose Spider-Man on the Bridge by causing an explosion, guessing he would stop to help civilians.  They guessed right, but what they didn’t guess was that the impact of the blast would knock their car into the East River.  The car had been recovered, and so had two of the three bodies, but one was still missing.  As for civilian casualties, none had been reported yet, although at least seventeen people had been taken to the hospital for their injuries.

You watched the news for hours, until the sun had set and the stars came out.  The more time passed, the more anxious you became.

Around eleven, you finally excused yourself for bed.  Watching those images had exhausted you, emotionally and mentally, and you were worried about the people of your city (and, if truth were to be told, you were worried about one person in particular).

As tired as you were, though, you couldn’t turn your mind off enough to fall asleep.  You tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, but when you checked your clock, it was only 12:13.  With a sigh, you gave up on sleep and sat up in bed, turning on your lamp.  You grabbed a book from your bedside table and tried to read, hoping to get your mind off things, but that didn’t work either.  The reason, however, wasn’t because the book couldn’t distract you from Spider-Man, but because a few minutes later, Spider-Man knocked on your window.

The sound of his fingers tapping made you jump, and your head turned around so fast you thought it may give you whiplash.  At the window, peaking in, was the masked hero.

Quietly, so as not to wake your mother (who had gone to bed after you), you opened the window and climbed out onto your fire escape, gently shutting the window behind you.

“Hey,” Spider-Man said quickly.  You stared, a little uncomprehendingly, at the boy in front of you. “Um, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” You repeated incredulously. “What’s—what are you doing here?”

“Last—last week you said to let you know if I was okay.” Spider-Man rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, after a rough night.  So…I’m okay.”

You nodded. “Okay.” You were unsure of what else to say.  It had become clear to you that this was becoming more than just a hero checking in on a civilian, or a civilian checking in on a hero.  Something else was developing, but you weren’t entirely decided on what it was.

“Could I—” Spider-Man began, at the exact same time you said, “Would you—?”

“No, sorry, you first.” The boy apologized, gesturing to you.

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked. “Water, or anything?”

“Water…would be great, thank you,” Spider-Man nodded, and you quietly opened your window to grab him a glass, leaving the hero on your fire escape.

 

You two spent the rest of the night talking.  You discussed the fight, what really happened (the news had it right, it seemed), how he felt seeing it (“I’ve never…in all my fights, there was never somebody I couldn’t save”), and how he felt he had almost caused it (“ _I_ chased them to the Bridge, Y/N”).  When you wanted to lighten the mood, you asked about school.  He couldn’t tell you much, but you learned you were in the same grade, although he wouldn’t say what school he went to.  After that, he asked you to draw him.  Then he drew you.  Before you two knew it, the sun was rising, he was saying goodbye and swinging off to wherever he really belonged, and you were left on the fire escape.

And that became the routine.  For the rest of your summer, you saw each other at least once a week.  After a big fight, Spider-Man would show up on your fire escape, and you would be ready to listen and talk, with some snacks and drinks.  Once August rolled around, Spider-Man was coming on nights he didn’t fight anyone at all, just because he enjoyed talking to you so much.  You two would sit on the fire escape, look out onto the Queens skyline, and be honest (as honest as a superhero with a secret identity could be) with each other, about anything and everything.  Spider-Man kept collecting the drawings you did, claiming he kept them all in a special place.

You would roll your eyes whenever he asked for one. “I’m sure the other Avengers like looking at all the scribbles a teenager does in the dead of night.”

“They don’t see them,” Spider-Man admitted. “I keep them for myself.  I’m kind of…greedy that way, I guess.”

You blushed, looking down at the drink in your hands.  You heard the sound of Spider-Man drinking his soda (he insisted on using a bendy straw so that he could tuck it under his mask because “I can’t pull the mask off, Y/N, not even a bit”) and you felt like something was beginning to burn inside you.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that this was a normal hangout between two friends.  In the solitude of your mind, you imagined Spider-Man behind the mask.  Not so much what he looked like, but what he felt like.  It wasn’t even that you had never been able to feel his bare skin because of the suit; ever since the night you two met, except when he pulled you up from falling, he had never touched you.  It was almost like he was afraid of crossing a line—like touching you, even just a brush against your shoulder, would turn this into something else.  If you were completely honest with yourself, you were afraid of that, too.

“Y/N?” Spider-Man’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” You answered, looking up from the ground and up at his mask-covered face.

“I don’t know if I—” Spider-Man took a deep breath. “I wanted—”

“Yes?” You repeated, pushing some loose hair out of your face.

Spider-Man reached out a hand, like he was going to tuck the hair behind your ear.  You kept as still as possible as his hand approached, but when he was a few inches away from your face, he thought better of it.

“Nothing,” He pulled his hand back and looked up at the sky, just beginning to tinge pink with the rising sun. “It’s late.  Or early, I guess.  I should go.”

“Okay.” You whispered.  You watched as Spider-Man stood up and shot a web, swinging up onto a nearby rooftop and went home—wherever that was.

You sighed wistfully, tucked your own hair behind your ear, and rested your head into your cupped palm (and you only half-wished it was the hand of someone else).


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading the chapters as much as i can! i'm also on tumblr @ astronomyparkers

As the end of August neared, you began to fear the return of school.  Not because you hated it—in fact, you were fond of school.  You liked learning, you liked seeing your friends from certain classes, and you even missed some of your teachers.  However, with the return of your school meant the return of Spider-Man’s school.  He had explained to you how difficult it was to balance the responsibilities of his civilian life with the responsibilities of being a superhero.  Between that tightropes of time management, you doubted there would be any hours allotted to visiting you.

You knew that you had no right to be sad about your predicament.  The right thing to do would be to not think selfishly, and just be happy with the time you were given with someone who doesn’t normally share their world.  But, no matter how many times you had a talk with yourself, you still couldn’t bring yourself out of your melancholy thoughts.

It didn’t help that Spider-Man had already begun frequenting your fire escape less and less.  Ever since the night he reached out to fix your hair, he hadn’t shown up for your midnight talks at all.  Granted, it had only been two weeks, and since there had been no strenuous fights or big explosions, you weren’t particularly worried.  You were, however, particularly lonely.  You missed him.  Sitting out on your fire escape alone was different than it had been before you had met the masked hero.  Before, you were content with just you and a book, some soft music in the background with city sounds around you.  Now, you felt isolated, and the quiet music and city sounds weren’t nearly loud enough to ease the loss of Spider-Man’s chatter.

Still, you tried to move on.  You played music louder, you talked out loud to yourself, you doodled the skyline more, you hung out with friends more often, and you filled your time with things that had made you happy before.  Today, for example, you were accompanying your friend Alex to the bank.  While it was not the most exciting task in the world, it was the act of a responsible adult that wasn’t hung up on a superhero, and therefore something that needed to be accomplished.  Being a responsible adult also meant holding Alex back and not letting her attack the teller who needed to brush up on their customer service skills.

 

“I’m sorry, miss, could you please explain to me what _exactly_ the problem is, again?” The teller said in a monotone voice. 

Alex took a deep breath and calmly replied, “Whenever I use my debit card, it’s taking the money from my savings account, instead of my chequing account.  As you can imagine, that setup doesn’t work for me.”

“Are you sure you’re pressing ‘chequing’ on debit machines, and not savings?” The teller asked, not even looking up from his computer screen.

“Am I—” Alex took another breath. “Yes.  I am sure.”

“Are you?  Because there is nothing showing up on your account that explains how your savings and chequing could be switched.  Maybe you’re just mixing it up?” The teller still hadn’t looked up from his computer screen, which was a poor choice on his part; if he had, he would have seen the warning signs that a teenage girl was about to tear him apart.

“Listen, you ignoramus—”

“Oh, boy,” You sighed, gently grabbing your friends arm. “Alex—”

“—do you really think that I work a minimum wage job in _retail_ to save up money for university, just so that my savings can slowly be drained without my knowledge?  Do you really think I would want that?  Do you?  Why would I take the time each month to split up my earnings into a savings account _just so that I could spend them?_ ”

You had to hand it to the bank teller—even with a venomous teen ready to rip out his throat, he managed to look unfazed.  You felt a little bad for him, but you guessed that’s just what working in customer service does to a guy.  Despite his nonchalance, everyone else in the bank from the mom in the corner with two kids to the man in the leather jacket by the door was staring at the scene you were unwillingly apart of.

“I’m very sorry, miss,” The teller sighed. “What would you like me to do to help you?”

“What would I—” Alex’s eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. “I would like you to _fix it_ , you—”

 

You knew that Alex had quite the mouth on her, and you were ready to step in and cut her off.  Before you could, however, someone else cut her off for you.  From behind you, a woman screamed, and you turned around to see the mother in the corner clutching her children closer to her as the man in the leather jacket pulled out a gun from his shoulder bag, which he dropped to the ground. 

The gun was unlike anything you had ever seen before.  It was definitely mechanical, but something about it didn’t look right.  It emitted a soft blue light, like there was something glowing, almost living, inside of it.  Something that wasn’t entirely human.

The man grabbed his bag and pulled out some sort of cube, which he stuck to the door.  You heard the sound of not only the front door’s mechanics locking, but also the windows around you.  Instinctively, you grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled her close to you, not even allowing the chance for her to be taken from you.

“Everyone, listen up!” The man yelled, lifting the gun into the air. “I have some business that I need to attend to, and a partner I need to do that business with.  The only way I can get him here is by causing a scene and taking hostages, so I need you all to sit down on the ground.” No one reacted for a moment, still shocked, and the man fired the gun into the air.  A blast of blue light emerged, piercing through the high bank ceiling.  Everyone screamed as rubble fell, and you instinctively covered your head. “Do you think I’m kidding?  Ground!  Now!”

You and Alex did as he said, dropping to the ground as quick as you could.  There was no doubt in your mind that the person he wanted to show up was Spider-Man, but why?  Who would rob a bank and w _ant_ the hero to show up?

“Who here has a phone with access to wifi?” The man looked around, pointing his gun at everyone in the bank. “Raise your hands!”

With shaking arms, both you and Alex raised your hands, along with a twenty-something man by the counter and a bank teller who was crouching beside a desk.

“Good.  Pull them out and send out a distress on social media.  Twitter, or whatever, I don’t care, just as long as people see it and know where I am.” The man walked around, watching everyone do as he said.  You could already hear the sirens get closer. “Make sure you say that I am armed, I have—” The man glanced around the room. “Hell, let’s round up—thirty hostages, and for every half hour that Spidey doesn’t show, I’m killing a civilian.”

You typed what he said, quickly pressing tweet and turning your phone off.  You wished you had Spider-Man’s number, or some way of getting into contact with him.  As much as you didn’t want him here, you didn’t doubt the armed man’s actions, and neither did anyone else.  The mother with two kids seemed to be choking back tears as she tried to keep her toddler and older child quiet.

Once everyone had finished, the armed man made everyone throw their phones into the center of the room, and then he went back to his bag and pulled out multiple metal cuffs.  He tossed two to everyone in the room, instructing them to slip them on and tap them together.  You did as he said, and once the two bangles touched, they tightened around your wrists and locked together, leaving you handcuffed.

There was no doubt in your mind now that this was alien tech, and you wondered how this man had come into possession of this much machinery.  It was then that it hit you—this must have been the third weapons dealer from the Queensboro Bridge crash, the one whose body was never recovered.  All the pieces fell into place: why he wanted an audience, why he had all these weapons, why he demanded Spider-Man show up.  He didn’t care about the bank or the money; he wanted a foolproof way to get the masked hero to come to him, so that he could get his revenge.  He wanted to kill Spider-Man.

Your pulse quickened and you began to sweat more than you already were.  You tried your best to shuffle over closer to Alex, who you could tell was also terrified.  She was blinking her eyes a lot and biting her lip, eyeing the big gun their captor was holding.  You reached over with your restrained hands and took her cuffed hands in yours, squeezing tight.

 

Through the glass doors and windows, you could see a crowd gathered outside.  Police had put up barricades, there were numerous cars parked outside, with everyone screaming, crying, calling out for loved ones—literal chaos.  Inside, the mood wasn’t much better.  All the phones in the center of the room had been buzzing and ringing for the last fifteen minutes, and everyone was tense.  All eyes seemed to be on the clock above a desk to your right, which looked as if it was speeding up with every passing second.  It had been twenty-two minutes since the armed man had announced his plan of killing a hostage every half hour, and you wondered if he was as aware of it as you all were.  Presently, he was standing in the middle of the room, glancing around at everyone every few seconds, but mostly keeping a watch out for the masked hero.  It was clear that he didn’t think he would have to wait this long for Spider-Man to show up.

You didn’t think you would have to wait this long, either.  The Spider-Man you knew was always rushing into dangerous situations—much to your displeasure—and the _one time_ you actually _wanted_ him to run head on into an enemy’s grasp, he decided to take his sweet time?  You didn’t want Spider-Man to get hurt, but you also knew that he was way better equipped to deal with this guy than anyone else in the room. 

You sized up your fellow hostages, wondering who your captor would grab.  Surely, he would leave the mother and her children.  You hoped to God he would leave the mother and her children.  And Alex.  You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your friend, much less watching her be executed right in front of you.  With those four separated, you looked back at the remaining civilians, all twenty-four, not including you.  There was a couple in the corner that you hadn’t had a chance to look at before, two women holding hands like you and Alex.  The taller one of the two moved her hands to her partner’s stomach, and, as she kissed her forehead, you realized the partner was pregnant.  You took them out of the equation.

Who else?  The twenty-something man who had used his phone to send out a distress call.  He was praying to himself in a corner.  A group of three teenagers, all crouched together by a chair, huddled together like there was safety in numbers.  Two businessmen leaning against the wall, each closing their eyes as if they could imagine they were somewhere else.  A woman sitting on her knees, fiddling with her engagement ring as much as her cuffs allowed her.  A gray-haired woman tugging on the cross around her neck as her husband leaned against her arm.  A teen boy in the corner, twisting his fingers together over and over.  Two girls in NYU sweatshirts, student loan brochures still clutched tightly in their hands.  Three women in pantsuits, their lunchtime coffees dropped onto the floor beside them.  The four bank tellers and their three branch managers, sitting in a group behind the counter, all with shiny, wet cheeks.  As you looked around the room, one of the tellers caught your eye, and you looked away with shame.

No one here deserved to die.  You felt your face flush and bile rise in your throat, disgusted that you had even entertained the thought that you could figure out who should be the first to go.  Tears began filling your eyes, blurring your vision, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to go away.

 

“Damn,” The armed man sighed.  You opened your eyes to see him staring at the clock. “I really thought Spidey would show.  Oh, well.  Guess he’s not so super after all.”

The armed man looked around at his hostages, taking stock. “Didn’t want it to come to this, really, but if I don’t go through with my promise, then I’ll never get him to show up.  Apologies.”

He continued pacing the room, looking from face to face.  Finally, he stopped in front of you.  But it wasn’t you.

With a sigh, he grabbed Alex roughly by the arm and pulled her away from you.  You screamed loudly, and she yelled your name back to you, tears falling freely from the both of you.  Trying to save your friend, you grabbed at the man’s arm, but he hit you in the head with the gun.  Instantly, red hot pain flashed across the right side of your forehead, and you knew the skin had split open.

“Y/N!” Alex screamed, trying to crawl back to where you had fallen back to the ground.  But the man kept his hold on her.

“Please,” Alex pleaded with the armed man, but he showed no mercy.  He pushed her down into the center of the room and pointed the gun at her head.

You stared in horror, your head throbbing.  You could feel the blood running down the side of your face, and you tried to wipe it off with your hands. The room was spinning and you could barely focus on anything, but you tried to make eye contact with Alex.  It was the only thing you could do.

“Sorry, kid, I am,” The armed man shrugged. “Really thought Spidey would’ve shown up by now.”

 

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the bank, and you felt shards of what you assumed was once a window raining down around you.  The hostages screamed, and you felt the thump of the ground as someone jumped through the hole.  Turning your head, you saw Spider-Man, the Spider-Man, _your_ Spider-man, crouched on the ground to your left.  Looking up, you could see one of the skylights in the ceiling broken, the remnant of a web drifting in the breeze that blew through.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Spider-Man stood up. “Traffic was horrible, and the Bridge is still out of commission.”

The armed man growled and pushed Alex away.  She crawled over to your and you grabbed her with your cuffed hands, pulling her closer.  Frantically, she untied the shirt knotted around her waist as best she could handcuffed, and shimmied it off, before grabbing it and pressing it to your head wound.

You felt so woozy, but you tried your best to keep your eyes open.  You couldn’t imagine actually watching Spider-Man fight the bad guy, but you couldn’t imagine not watching it, either.

The armed man shot first, but Spider-Man dodged his blast.  Instead, it hit the wall to your right, narrowly avoiding the group of bank employees.  A whole about three feet wide and four feet tall was left in result, and Spider-Man noticed.

“Everyone, out!” He shouted, continuing to dodge blasts from the gun.  He swung around, shooting webs at the armed man, trying to disable him. “Everybody—”

It was at that moment that the two of you made eye contact.  You, lying on the ground, struggling to stay conscious as Alex tried to stop your wound from bleeding. 

“Y/N?” You heard Spider-Man yell.  He stopped moving and stared at you uncomprehendingly, until he narrowly missed being hit by a blast from the armed man’s gun.  It hit the ceiling, and another blast hit the wall.  Rubble began to rain down on you.

The hostages began running for the hole in the wall, crawling out.  You tried to get up but it quickly became apparent that moving was impossible, as you felt more and more light headed with every passing second.  Alex smoothed your hair.

“Y/N,” She whispered. “Y/N, I can’t carry you, I’m not strong enough.”

“Go,” You whispered back, weakly pushing her away. “Please, Alex, go.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Alex said determinedly, looking around for a way to get you off the ground.

There was none, and more rubble was falling from the ceiling as more blasts missed Spider-Man.  It was becoming apparent that the building was on the verge of collapse.  Through the holes in the walls, you could see the crowds evacuating, ambulances and cop cars being the only vehicles around the area.

You heard a growl, and turned back to the fight around you.  Spider-Man had aimed a web over the barrel of the gun, succeeding in blocking it.  With his borrowed time, he raced over to you and Alex.

“Go,” He told Alex, pointing towards the exit. “Go, I’ll get her.”

Alex nodded, moving quickly to the hole, glancing back at you as she did so.

Spider-Man scooped you up into his arms and ran you outside as fast as he could, leaving you at the first ambulance he found.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered the entire time he carried you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, oh my god…”

As he laid you down on the gurney an EMT had waiting for you, you tried to grab his suit.

“Please don’t go back in there,” You pleaded, your eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“If I don’t, he’ll come out here,” Spider-Man turned back towards the building. “I have to go.  I’m sorry.”

With those words as his goodbye, the masked hero ran back inside.  Less than ten seconds later, there was a scream, a blast of light, and the sound of more glass breaking.  You watched, helpless, as the building began to crumble.  Your EMT wheeled your gurney into the back of the ambulance, with the intent of getting everyone away from the crashing building as quick as possible.

Before the doors closed, before your eyes shut, the last thing you saw was a flash of red amidst the collapsing grey concrete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @ astronomyparkers!


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